hOnK!
by Izaya-chi
Summary: So I had to write two poems for my AP Lit class, any theme, and I chose to write about homestuck, heh heh. The first poem is a Sestina for the pairing GamTav (my OTP XD) and the second poem is called a Villanelle that also insinuates some PB J at the ending, if you all can figure it out, that is. hOnK ;o) Hope you all enjoy
1. hOnK!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the names or idea, all rights on that to Hussy~

**Author's Note:** I wrote this for my AP Lit class, just like the title says. I thought the rating T was appropriate because there is some blood mentioned in it, so it's definitely not K+ lol. Well, I wonder if you all can figure out why the form is called a "Sestina". I'd be surprised if you couldn't ;o)

**hOnK!**

There once was a thirteen-year-old named gAmZeE

who had an odd obsession with clowns

and was of the highest blood.

He had a best friend—that often rapped with him—named tAVROS,

who also had an unfortunate accident that left him in a wheelchair.

One night, Gamzee thought it would be nice for them to attend a circus.

Tavros was a little against the idea because of the judging eyes of the circus,

but he just could not deny the reassuring calm that was Gamzee.

The man had even cheered him up with his lethargic ways after Vriska put him in a wheelchair.

Gamzee himself wasn't exactly free from the critical eye, either, because he wore "the makeup of a clown".

However, Gamzee was still not nearly as prone to scorn as Tavros,

who was stuck in a wheelchair, his fantasies, and his low place on the colorful hierarchy of blood.

On the way there, "the voice" pestered Gamzee with sweet nothings and how he should just give in and make Tavros bleed,

but fortunately luck was on his side (that they arrived suddenly) and he could distract himself with the bright colors of the circus.

Plus, Gamzee figured he would end up doing such things _anyways_ when he "won over" Tavros

eventually, but the little man never really handed a definite answer to Gamzee.

Instead, he just swerved the awkward conversation over to the wall-posters in Gamzee's room of insane clowns

and sunk down lower—out of sheer embarrassment—in his wheelchair.

During the random blackout, Gamzee clutched onto the armrest of Tavros' wheelchair

and Tavros bit his lip in anticipation, drawing out his peanut-butter colored blood.

Three spotlights finally shown down on the center of the ring to reveal many vibrant clowns;

Gamzee's face, although already content in appearance, brightened considerably being they were his favorite part of the circus.

Tavros faced his buddy and found himself cracking a small smile at Gamzee,

who in turn beamed down—with a slight twinkle in his eyes—at Tavros.

After the clown display, Gamzee had quickly drawn bored and told Tavros

that they should ditch now and stood to grab a hold of Tavros' wheelchair.

Tavros would've protested, but then again he didn't much like circuses so he let himself be led by Gamzee,

whose eyes had dropped to gaze at Tavros' lip that currently bled

peanut-butter after he exited the vibrant circus

and waved good-bye to the entrance clowns.

Gamzee licked his lips and a "honk!" escaped through them, his clown

personality rising to the surface once again as he stopped pushing Tavros,

the cool night air blowing his tangled mass of ebony curls as soft music played still behind from the abandoned circus.

A lazy smile graced Gamzee's sharp features as he walked around to face the front of Tavros' wheelchair

and bent down to gently meet Tavros' lips, just barely sticking out his tongue to taste the forgotten smudge of blood.

A deep, light brown blush rushed up Tavros' face and reached his ears as he pulled back to gawk at Gamzee.

Cheers reverberated from far off now, signaling the end of the circus—and also the "haunting hour" for the clowns.

Leaves of all warm-colored shades danced around Gamzee when he suddenly stood and looked on languidly at the flushed Tavros,

Who now abandoned his wheelchair and stood tall before Gamzee (who muttered "mIrAcLeS...!"), figuring it didn't matter anymore the color of his blood.

_**End, **_**hOnK~ :o)**


	2. High-Blood Traits

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the idea of the poem, all of those rights belong to Hussy~

**Author's Note:** This is the second poem I wrote; the form is called a "Villanelle", as before mentioned in the summary heh heh….hope you understand the odd concept xD

**High-blood Traits**

Twin clubs first clank together before they are wielded to create a thunk,

while the silent master lurks within the shadows,

until his presence is dissembled by a whispered "honk."

His current victim was paralyzed and her heart sunk

upon hearing her friend's voice in its hollow…

Twin clubs first clank together before they are wielded to create a thunk.

She fell beside her male friend and her body slunk

like a rag doll; if only her murderer had been mellow

and he spoke above a whispered "honk."

But reality was all too cruel for that and he had long passed his monk

stage and all-too-quick made for his next, crippled, victim began to swallow

[as] twin clubs first clank[ed] together before they [were] wielded to create a thunk;

And it was the last victim's death that brought upon the most shock,

for the psychopath gingerly held the severed head and kissed it with a sweetness like melted marshmallow

[when] twin clubs first clank together before they are wielded to create a thunk

and a low voice cracked before ushering a sad, hushed "honk." ■


End file.
